


Death Loop

by PaleNoFace



Series: Tree Bros Adventures [17]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Author Is Sleep Deprived, Connor Deserves Happiness, Connor Murphy & Zoe Murphy Bonding, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Description of Corpses, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Mental Health Issues, Metaphors, Recovery, Sibling Bonding, Suicide Attempt, Temporary Character Death, They're Not Okay But They're Trying, Treebros
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 19:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21258551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaleNoFace/pseuds/PaleNoFace
Summary: There is a boy, in Evan's class, who keeps dying everyday.





	Death Loop

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween everybody ! I hope y'all have been okay so far. This is a little thing I did instead of doing my homework because I'm a self-destructive idiot who only believes in immediate reward. Ahah.
> 
> This one is more heavy than what I usually write, but I'm pretty proud of it, at least for now, so don't hesitate to give me your opinion.
> 
> I'm going to go write my 7 essays now. Be safe, drink water and fuck the system, my loves !

There is a boy, in Evan's class, who keeps dying everyday.

Evan doesn't notice, at first. It's kind of hard to realize someone is dying in front of your eyes, especially when it's the quiet kind of death.

He wonders how many times Connor Murphy had a heart attack in the middle of algebra and everyone thought he was just napping.

It's hard to notice, when nobody cares.

Hard to understand that in the occupied stall in the third floor bathroom there is the body of a boy who just overdosed.

Hard to link the hallway rumor that someone jumped from the top of the gym to the guy who is bumping into him to make his way to english literature.

Hard to put the face of the school's least appreciated student on top of the body found floating in the pool.

But all it needs is one time.

All it needs is one panic attack, and Evan rushing out of biology with his heart in his throat and his blood beating at his temples and the walls narrowing around him and the ceiling downing like it's about to crush him.

All it needs is his feet rushing him to the greenhouse behind the school, that technically shouldn't be accessible to students but that is never really closed because someone broke the lock ages ago and nobody took the time to replace it.

All it needs is looking up, and seeing someone dangling from the sturdier beam.

Evan almost throws up. Between the nervous breakdown, the terrible smell of decomposing plants, and the sight - the sight of someone, dead, in front of him, almost surreal - It's almost too much.

He almost throws up, but he doesn't, instead walks right out of the green house and back inside the main building, in his mind a constant loop of _nope, nope, nope._

  
If the police asks, he wasn't there. He didn't see anything.

Except he did see Connor Murphy. And he sees him again.

And he starts to notice. First every few days then every day. He sees Connor's nosebleed when he hastily leaves physics. He sees Connor suddenly dropping to the ground in the courtyard right before the last bell. He hears the violent coughs. He witnesses the eyes rolling in the back of the skull during French and staying there.

And Evan starts wondering. How comes Connor keeps dying and coming back the next day like nothing happened, only to die again and again and again ? How comes no one seems to notice ? To care who the body found on the roof is ?

He doesn't want to be connected to this madness.

Evan hears on TV about a body found in a wood shredder, and he turns the sound off. Evan sees something drop in front of the window before hearing a nauseating _splat_, but doesn't rush with the rest of his classmates to see. He walks by a crumpled form in a dark alley on his way home, and doesn't stop.

But he can't get the dangling body out of his head. He can't stop thinking about it, because it's like a ghost printed on his retina, and Evan can't ignore ghosts.

So he starts following Connor around. Distantly, at first, shamefully satisfying his morbid curiosity, wondering if he could come back, too, if there would be no consequences as it seems to be for Connor. No repercussions. No long-lasting commitment.

He doesn't dare, of course, because he's afraid of getting hurt, afraid of dying - on a visceral level, he refuses to try. Afraid of the unknown, ironically enough.

Meanwhile, Connor Murphy keeps dying, and nobody cares.

But Evan keeps watching. He notices Connor's regular deaths, carefully hidden in the landscape, like it's just another part of the town. Just another quirk of its identity.

He sees a dark stain on the sidewalk, and wonders if Connor slipped and smashed his head on the ground. If he just started vomiting blood and dropped dead. If he got hit by a car.

He wonders if the driver even noticed they hit something. Wonders if Connor even matters at all.

***

It takes him a couple of weeks to spot the journal.

It's an old thing, with a black cover, the simplest notebook found in any regular supply store, with a bic pen attached to the spine. It looks used, battered. Well loved. It's an old thing, but it's looked after, tucked safely between two school books.

Evan catches Connor writing in it one morning, scribbling furiously before clapping the cover shut and putting it back in his bag. Connor dies in the infirmary, after what looked like a very painful headache. He comes back the next day, unchanged.

Still gloomy. Still scary. Still about to drop dead any minute.

Evan doesn't think much of it.

Until he gets his hands on the journal.

He's in the library, printing one of his letters again - it's like it's all he does, writing letters, printing them, refusing to read them to Sherman, repeat. A continuous loop of self-hatred and anxiety, feeding itself non-stop.

Except today. Today is different, because he finds Connor Murphy's death journal.

He grabs and flickers through the pages before he can even think about it. His eyes and brain eventually catch up, lingering on the causes -asphyxia, cardiac arrest, hemorrhage - and hours, dates, little notes about particular details, and Evan suddenly understands what he's holding in his hands.

Connor Murphy has been monitoring his own deaths. Playing with the variables, provoking some of them - most of them, Evan realizes as he thumbs through the pages faster and faster, eyes skimming through the paragraphs. He feels sick. And infinitely curious, which makes him feel even sicker.

  
There are letters, too. Some are printed, with the font even, clinical, impersonal. Some are ripped pages of other notebooks, crumbled then flattened, words rushed across the paper like the author ran out of time. Some of them have blood stains. All of them are meticulously dated and glued neatly, folded.

The notebook is snatched out of his grip. Evan startles, takes a couple steps back right into a shelving, and stares at Connor Murphy.

He is terrifying. Face pale with barely contained rage. Radiating anger from every pore of his skin. Entire frame shaking, knuckles white around the spine of the notebook. Evan wonders if this is how he dies. Beaten to death in a school library by the local immortal.

Well. Not immortal, clearly, since it's all Connor seems to do these days. But you get the point.

"Did you read it ?" Connor asks, and even his voice is shaking, and it's somehow even more terrifying than if he were shouting.

Evan can't help but stare. And stare. And stare.

"I-"

Connor's nose is dripping blood. _It's almost time_, Evan thinks distantly. He looks back down at the boy's hands.

"Do you- Are you- Why do you keep track ?"

Connor's face almost crumbles, eventually freezes on something between confusion and distrust. Evan swallows. He shouldn't have said that, he should have kept his mouth shut, maybe stammer out an apology and make a run for the exit, just drop everything and flee.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean it like that it's none of my business I'm sorry I saw the notebook and didn't know who owned it and I thought, maybe there's a name inside but there wasn't and it's just lines and lines and lines of horrible deaths and I can't believe you keep going through that every day and no one else seems to notice, how comes no one else notices all your dead bodies all over the school ? And where do your bodies go anyway, is there like, someone collecting them or do you bury yourself every night or -"

"You saw all of it ?" Connor snaps, voice sharp, tone cutting, eyes heavy.

Evan shudders and closes his mouth. He nods once. Connor lets out a deep sigh that mobilizes his entire body. The trail of blood now reaches his chin, but he doesn't seem to notice. Or care. He closes his eyes, then opens them again. Makes a visible effort to relax his shoulders. He seems less angry, more... hollow.

Dying all the time must be really tiring.

"Let's get out of here," Connor says, and it's not a question, not even a suggestion.

It sounds like he expects Evan to follow him without a complain. Evan, obviously, does as told, because he's very bad at saying no.

They get out of the library, out of school, out of the parking lot. Evan can't will his legs to stop following the dying boy. They stop by a bench. Connor coughs and spits out a bunch of blood, right in the drain, then lowers himself onto the used wood. Evan slides silently by his side, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

He's scared of getting hurt, scared of dying - but, oddly enough, he doesn't feel scared of Connor.

They spend a long time without talking. Connor has blood on his shirt's collar. Evan has his fingers crisped around his keys, jingling them quietly inside of his pocket.

"I dunno why I keep coming back."

This has the effect of a punch in the gut. Evan's eyes go wide, and he whips his head towards him.

"You mean- why you keep dying."

Connor glares back at him like he just said the stupidest thing ever.

"No. I mean coming back. Nothing seems to stick. Nothing is permanent. Nothing has-"

"Consequences ?"

Connor glares at him again, but there is less heat behind the look. He nods.

"I keep dying and coming back. It's not stopping. No matter what I do, it just-"

The rest of his sentence gets stuck in his throat with a weird squeak and a shake of his head. He coughs up more blood. Evan doesn't look away.

"So you- you- you started recording it. Compiling it."

"Might as well, considering there's no way out of it," the taller boy replies, sounding infinitely bitter. "I'm almost at the end of this journal. Soon I'll need a new one."

"Maybe you should really stop trying to speed up the process."

A coughed laugh. Snarky, and not really kind. Very much Connor-like.

"I'm telling you it doesn't matter. Nothing happens, no consequences."

They stop talking. Evan eventually gets up and goes home. He wonders if Connor decided to go home too or if he's already dead, sitting on a cold bench with his bag at his feet and his black notebook in his hands.

The mental picture shakes him a little.

He doesn't like it.

***

Evan keeps paying attention during the next days. The next week. The next month. Connor lets him, like a dying lion lets a vulture circle him, while not going as far as putting up a show for him.

But.

He doesn't hide, either.

Keeps himself in plain sight. Evan hurts whenever he sees him actively trying to end himself.

It's not long before he notices the bruises on his own body.

He brushes them off at first, putting them on the account of being clumsy in general. But then Connor cracks his skull open on a desk in history and Evan feels the blow in his chest. It cuts his breath instantly.

He looks at his chest, that evening, in the mirror of his bedroom, and sees a big bruise blooming on his skin, right above his heart.

He gets a new mark the next day, when Connor cuts himself deeply on some glass.

And the day after.

And the one after.

And Evan knows.

It hits him, suddenly, that there are consequences. Maybe not for Connor, but there are. The consequences are all over Evan's torso, and his arms, and his thighs.

It scares the living shit out of him.

He shows the marks to Connor.

Connor looks at him with big, sad eyes, and says he can't do anything about it.

"You could try to survive," Evan argues, and he feels terrible and selfish for trying to save the other boy for his own benefit, but he's getting desperate.

Connor shakes his head and looks stubbornly down at his shoes.

"That's not how it works. I will die, Ev. No matter what."

"Then..." Evan says, trying to swallow back the panic. "Then at least try to not be so active in it. Please ?"

The 'do it for me' is unspoken, but they both hear it ring in the air. Connor's glassy eyes are back on him, seeing right through him.

"I can try," he says, very serious. "But it won't stop just because I'm hurting you too."

Evan doesn't comment on that. Doesn't let the stray comment of 'he's doing it for attention' pass his lips. Because yes, obviously, Connor is desperate for attention, desperate to be noticed, to be seen, and _God_, Evan sees him - _all of him_ \- But it's not how they're going to solve this loop of pain and exhaustion and death.

Connor looks so tired. Like he's going to collapse at any moment.

Evan wishes he had a solution, but he doesn't.

***

"At least you care," Connor tells him one afternoon, and his fingers are terribly cold in Evan's hand.

Evan lets out a little puff of steam and looks up at the bare branches above their heads. He wonders if he would die, falling from up there. It's a distant, disconnected thought, but it shakes him all the same.

"Everyone should care," he says, and feels his friend shrugging against his own shoulder.

"It's nobody's business but mine."

Evan bristles at that, but he doesn't have the words to tell him how wrong he is. It doesn't stop him for thinking it very loud.

"What's the plan for today ?" he asks instead.

"I'm waiting it out," Connor replies with a sniff.

It's getting cold. Evan thumbs through the second notebook, the yellow one, that's already filled up to a third. He looks at the last entries.

"A lot of hypothermia, these days," he comments.

Another shrug.

"It's getting colder."

It's the third day in a row that Connor is "waiting it out". It's a good thing, probably. It doesn't lessen Evan's bruises, but it somehow appeases his mind. He's still fearing that Connor might die for good if he puts all his mind to it.

(Evan is not ready to lose the only friend he managed to make.)

(Are they even friends ?)

(He likes to think they might be. Connor talks to him. As far as he's aware, he's the only one to receive this treatment.)

***

Winter passes, Connor keeps his usual cycle of life and death with little to no change. Evan is still bruised all over, but he's not that worried. He'll be fine.

Although he keeps falling. Metaphorically, of course, because it's nothing like Connor's situation, but Evan has this constant twist in his gut like he's falling from very very high and he's going to crash eventually, he just doesn't know when, and he doesn't know how much time he has before he reaches the ground, and the longer he falls the harder the landing will be, and Evan knows it but he can't do anything about it except swallow his terror and-

Connor looks better. Still dead inside, still sick, but there is a glint of something in his eyes that wasn't there before. A new resolution. The curiosity of 'waiting it out'.

Connor is still a ghost around school. People refuse to acknowledge his presence, his bodies, his freak-outs. Evan sees it all. He wonders again if he's the only one seeing this.

Caring.

And then.

As the temperature becomes bearable again, Zoe Murphy comes to school one way sporting a brand new sleeveless shirt. And there it is.

A bruise, right on her shoulder.

Evan is so close to a panic attack he has to skip class to go calm down in a bathroom stall.

She knows. She knows she knows _she knows she knows_.

She sees Connor, too, and she's chosen to look away, and the thought makes Evan choke on his saliva and choke on air and feeling like he's about to cry. She somehow lives with the fact that her brother is stuck in a weird death loop and has decided to have nothing to do with it.

He asks Connor about it at lunch. Connor's face scrunches up and his eyes stay stubbornly on the parking lot. He does that a lot lately, especially when he knows the answer won't please Evan.

Evan notices this and notices everything, and he cares. More than it would be considered healthy.

"She thinks I'm a monster."

Something snaps in half in Evan's chest, but before he can say anything Connor continues.

"And she'd be right to think so."

"No," Evan replies weakly.

"Yes," Connor insists and bites hard into his sandwich. "This whole thing, it turns me into something I hate. It's- It's no excuse, but I'm a fucking asshole to her, because of all of this, because it sucks and I can't get out, and it happens all the fucking time, and she... She's right, you know. I'm bad."

"You're not bad, Connor."

"I _am_, though," he stammers, and a big tear rolls down his cheek and lands on the sandwich, forgotten on his lap. "I told her I would kill her. I threw stuff at her because she kept trying to help, and I... I didn't want her to see me like that. I didn't want her pity."

Evan clenches his jaw and tries not to recoil at the violence of these words. Connor's fingers are clenching and un-clenching on the concrete step they're sitting on, and he doesn't want him to break a phalanx so he grabs his hand instead and holds it still.

"You might be an asshole," he says, and his voice is less shaky than he expected it to be, "for acting like that to her. But you don't get any help either. It's unfair to her, but it also is to you."

Connor laughs, a wet chuckle full of exhaustion and terror and loneliness, and passes his free hand in his tangled hair.

"I'm trying, I swear to God I'm trying, but it's _so fucking hard_ and it's like I'm invisible and nobody ever sees me and it's fucking disheartening, you know ?"

"I know," Evan whispers, and Connor looks at him and squeezes his hand. "But I - I see you. And Zoe sees you too, even if she doesn't want to."

Connor cries for a long time, quietly, on the stairs outside high school with Evan holding his hand like it's the only thing keeping him from crumbling completely.

Evan can't do anything but hold onto this hand, and feels like he's falling a little faster and it's scaring him senseless.

"You should, I don't know, maybe try to talk to Zoe ?" he says after a while, when Connor's cheeks are dry but his eyes are still rimmed in red.

"It's hurting her," the dying boy counters, and Evan shrugs.

"It hurts her anyway. We might as well try to do something about it." He pauses. Tangles his fingers with Connor's. "Do you want me to ?"

Connor doesn't respond, doesn't even look at Evan, but after a long moment he nods. And that alone relieves the weight on Evan's shoulders. Just a little.

***

Zoe is, understandably, very weirded out to be approached by Evan Hansen, a boy she saw a total of two times this year and is notably unnoticeable. He looks about to pass out, or anxiously burst into tears, or puke. Zoe isn't really sure, and she doesn't want to linger around to see which one of her theories is right.

But here she is, standing behind the art building with Evan Hansen, of all people, who's wringing his hands like he's about to rip them off and oozing of anxious, manic energy.

She wonders if he ever chilled once in his life.

"What did you want to ask me ?" she blurts out, already readying herself to reject the poor guy.

Evan takes a deep, shaky breath, and instead of saying he's like to go out with her like she's expecting him to do, pulls up his sweatshirt's sleeve and shows her his arm.

Something very cold drops inside her stomach and she stumbles back, astonished. His forearm is littered with blue and purple and yellow marks, and Zoe knows what it is. She knows where it comes from, and she knows Evan knows she has matching marks all over her chest and ribs and legs.

"You too ?" she barks, and for a second she really sounds like her brother, angry and defensive and so, _so scared_.

Evan only blinks, arm still extended, and very slowly he lowers his sleeve again, hiding the bruises, hiding the proof that he _knows_ and he _sees_ and he _cares._ And Zoe wants to hate him for this, for being better at this than she is, for- for-

"Who even are you ?" she spits, and Evan winces because he can hear what she's really saying.

_Who are you to him ? How are you better than me, his own sister ?_

"I'm- I'm just trying to be a decent friend," he says, and his voice wobbles, but his tone is certain, if not a little accusatory.

"It doesn't change anything," she counters, burying her fists in her pockets.

"M-Maybe, but he doesn't deserve this. Nobody deserves to live like that."

"He's a freak," she growls, because it awfully feels like he's invalidating her position, and who is he to insinuate these things ? "He's completely lost it and you're falling for it."

Evan is still shaking, but there's something steely about his eyes, and everything about his posture is screaming contained fury.

"Maybe. But maybe Connor genuinely needs help and he'd rather die in a corner than hurt others."

"I can't forgive what he did, or said. He made my life a fucking nightmare."

She's glaring at this boy in a blue polo and black sweatshirt and wonders how he got involved in all of this to begin with. She wonders what's hiding behind the mask of innocence and anxiety. She wonders what he's getting out of the deal.

Evan is about to break, because he can't hold this long under such a strong glare, and he imagines himself having to tell Connor that his and Zoe's relationship is too much of a minefield to try and reconnect with her. Dread is building up in his stomach and he feels like he's about to crash at full speed any moment now.

"Have you considered- In his place, wouldn't you push him away too ?" he asks, because this question keeps him awake at night, and Connor doesn't have an answer.

Zoe seems to think about it and deflates a little.

She looks at him.

"What the hell do you expect me to do about it ?"

***

It's weird to see the Murphy siblings try to communicate, Evan thinks. It's like watching two people speaking two different languages, somehow understanding each other, but not finding the correct words to pass ideas. It's frustrating, to say the least.

Evan doesn't want to be a part of this. It's... it would be weird for him, to step in and add his two cents, because... this is about them. About how they have to stop shoving each other out of their respective lives.

As he looks at them from afar, Evan feels desperately, utterly alone.

He'll be there for Connor, still, keep notes in the journals - the third, dark red, is well on its way to be finished. He'll be there when Connor needs to make sure he still exists.

He'll be there to watch, and notice, and care.

But Evan is dropping like a rock, weighted by the loneliness, and there's nothing slowing him down. He doesn't know how far the ground is, but it gets closer with every panicked breath.

***

Zoe and Connor... They try, alright. They try to make space for each other, and talk things out. Zoe doesn't forgive him for how he treated her for years, and Connor doesn't expect her to. She's right to be angry and hurt. But she also understands that he doesn't have control over the whole dying situation. And he tries, he tries so hard, but it doesn't stop the fact that he dies every day, that he can't stay dead or alive.

"It's like riding a locomotive without tracks right into a wall, but then you break through the wall and there's another one behind," he tells her at some point, and somehow she gets what he means.

They fight, a lot. More than the last couple of years, where they just decided to ignore each other. It's rough, and Zoe often ends with frustrated tears in her eyes, or Connor has to storm out before he breaks something, but it's infinitely better than the silent treatment.

Anything is better than the silent treatment.

"Maybe there's a specialist for this," Zoe says one day, as she's eating with Evan and Connor on the concrete steps outside of school.

Connor, startled, chokes on his pasta and they have to continue the conversation the next day.

"I'm just saying," she says again, between two classes, "You probably aren't the first one to die on loop like that. It would be weird."

"I would be unlikely," Evan agrees, fingers pulling a loose thread from his shirt.

"Maybe someone would know how to stop it," Connor concurs, and for the very first time in what feels like forever, he hopes to be stuck on the life side of the coin.

He doesn't tell that to Evan and Zoe. He doesn't wan to get their hopes up. What he doesn't know is that they're both hoping the same thing.

***

Connor keeps dying, but in a safe way. Evan usually makes sure it's not as painful. Zoe looks at him with conflicted eyes, but she holds his hand when he sometimes manages to reach his bed before the deadline.

(He makes her go away before he dies, because he doesn't want her to see any of it, but the fact that she's willing to keep him company until then makes him feel like crying.)

They look up death specialists. It's complicated, because shedding multiple corpses every week seems to be taboo even on the internet, and the closest doctor has a waiting list of two years. It at least comforts Connor in the idea that he's not the only one.

It doesn't help, though, that he keeps dying, and Evan and Zoe keeps getting bruises because of it. Evan shrugs and says he's fine - which he isn't, Connor isn't blind but definitely worried about - and Zoe grimaces when a new one appears, but says it's a small price to pay compared to actually dying like he does.

Zoe is worried Connor will die someday and not come back the next.

Evan is terrified that, if it happens, it's going to be his turn to be alone, invisible and unreachable.

When he tells that to Connor one evening he's at the Murphy house, his friend looks at him with big eyes, filled to the brim with... something that Evan doesn't recognize, and pulls him into a tight hug.

"You're so important," Connor's muffled voice comes from against Evan's shoulder, and Evan doesn't dare moving, but Connor pulls him closer and repeats," You're so fucking important, Evan Hansen, don't ever think people won't see you because that's complete bullshit."

Evan wants to cry, or maybe he's crying, because Connor is hugging him and not letting go, _he's not letting go_, and it's like he just sat down on a branch and snatched Evan in his fall.

And Evan realizes that Connor noticed him, too. He saw him, _all of him_, and despite that he isn't running away, no, he's holding him, and then Zoe walk in on them hugging and crying and she's promptly pulled into the hug and Evan is laughing and Zoe is grumbling something about loving the two biggest dumbasses in the entire country and Connor makes her shut up by squeezing her harder.

Zoe tells them that she sees them, too, and she's done looking away because it doesn't do shit for any of them, and that she talked to their mom about the death doctor and she arranged a meeting and Connor has an appointment at the end of the month, and Connor cries even harder because he honestly never expected to get so much help.

***

"I'm kinda scared," the older Murphy admits, the day before the appointment, as he and Evan are slouched on Evan's couch watching a wildlife documentary.

Evan straightens a little from where he's been leaning on Connor, a question on his lips and panic rising in his guts.

"What if they can't stop it ? What if I... die and that's it ?"

"I don't want to think about it," Evan shudders.

"But it's a possibility," Connor points out.

"Maybe, but maybe everything is going to be fine and you'll stop dying and you'll be okay."

"But maybe I'll die for good," Connor insists, and there's a trace of nervousness in his voice. "What then ?"

Evan shakes his head. He doesn't want to think about it. He can't think about it, because if Connor isn't around anymore there's nothing stopping him from falling again, and Evan can't think about it because it makes him sick.

But then Connor is pulling him back where he was and he lets the documentary play again, and Evan can feel Connor's heart beating against his ribs, and he knows it'll be okay. He's cuddled with his best friend and they're watching meerkats living their best lives and it's okay. At least for today, they're okay, and tonight Connor will die, and tomorrow he'll be back again like nothing happened, and no one would know but Evan and Zoe because they will have a new bruise somewhere on their bodies because _Connor matters and they care_, and that's what's important. That's not nearly enough, but it's fine.

It's good enough for now.

***

"So ? How was it ?" Zoe asks when Connor climbs inside of the car, and Evan looks up from the bloody mess that are his fingers after biting them so much.

Behind the wheel, Cynthia straightens, her face full of concern and guilt and her arms covered in new bruises, blooming on top of very old, fading ones. Evan knows Connor and her had a very long conversation about what is happening to him, but it's really the first time Evan and Cynthia meet so he doesn't really know how to act around her. Hence the nervous chewing.

Connor lets out a deep, tired sigh, slips in the backseat next to Evan and doesn't say a word for the rest of the afternoon. When Connor disappears in his room and slams the door behind him, Zoe asks Evan if he wants to stay for dinner, and Evan says yes because he doesn't trust himself to be alone in his own house when Connor is obviously not okay and Zoe has this weird look on her face, the one she has when she's preparing for impact.

Evan wonders is Zoe is falling too, sometimes.

Cynthia puts on a brave facade, but the afternoon clearly hasn't been going the way she expected, and Evan doesn't know if she expected Connor to be alright and not dying in just one meeting, and he doesn't know if this isn't what _he_ was expecting, but.

Connor is still there the next morning, when they go to class. He's there the next one, and the one after.

For Evan, it's good enough.

***

Of course it isn't immediate. It would be too simple. But it's getting better, slowly, so slowly at first that Evan doesn't notice, until one morning when he's awaken by his phone ringing and Connor is at the other end, voice high pitched and vibrant :

"I didn't die last night."

And Evan feels his heart skipping, because it's the very first time it happened since he met Connor for real. He doesn't know if it's gonna stick, and Connor doesn't know either, but he's elated by this new development and Evan doesn't have the heart to burst his bubble.

Connor dies again, the next week, the next month, but sometimes there's a fluke and he doesn't die, for one, two days in a row, and Evan wants to believe it's progress.

Zoe sits with him, when Connor is with the doctor, and for a long while she doesn't speak. Evan knows there is something she wants, but he doesn't push, because he's learned how she works by now, and pressuring her only puts her walls up.

"He is going to be okay, right ?" she eventually ask with a soft voice, and it hits Evan square in the face that Zoe is younger than him, she's just a scared child with a fucked up brother and an anxious mess of a friend.

He wants to believe it's going to be okay, that Connor will manage to stay alive longer periods, maybe even forever.

(Evan doesn't believe in forevers. He doesn't believe in always and he doesn't believe in absolutes. But he's willing to try.)

***

It takes a while, and a lot more of Connor getting better, for Evan to realize his best friend can't be the only thing holding him in place. It's not healthy, for neither of them, and it's dangerous, so he and Connor and Zoe look up for a falling doctor, or better, someone who will teach him to use a parachute and climb back up.

He tells his mom. Heidi cries a lot, apologizes for not being there when he needs her, and Evan cries a lot and apologizes for hiding from her how he really feels.

It hurts very much, but it only goes up from there.

Zoe goes with him to the appointments when his mom can't and Cynthia is with Connor.

Evan is glad he's not alone, and Zoe keeps telling him that he's seen, and that they all care.

Connor holds his hand, holds strong, doesn't let him slip away. He looks at him with mismatched eyes full of doubts for the future but so, _so full of support_ that Evan sometimes has to look away because he's still convinced, sometimes, that he doesn't deserves any of this.

He sees Connor looking at his sister the same way, just a little more subdued, and he sees Zoe hovering the two of them with the same amount of love and worry.

Connor gets better, because he's determined, and Evan wishes he had this kind of strength. Connor keeps dying, but it's less frequent, and Evan doesn't die at all, and he's pretty proud of it.

Larry doesn't seem to be against it, despite Connor's original fear. He just doesn't know what to do with all the information, doesn't know how to make a difference, how to help. He doesn't understand, but Connor doesn't need him to. He only needs to know he will not be in the way of his recovery.

Heidi is very enthusiastic about helping Evan. It's a little overwhelming, because she wants to try her best and she wants him to know that she cares and she sees, and Evan isn't used to it, so sometimes he hides at Connor's.

They watch old cartoons and new series and documentaries and let's plays and they read comics and novels and they listen to music and podcasts until it's very late at night and Connor isn't dead yet, and they lay on Connor's bed and hold each other for dear life and they look at the fluorescent stars on the ceiling and tell secrets that get lost in the night and it's kind of okay.

It takes them a long time for everything to be _really_ okay.

It takes a few tries and a handful of doctors, but Connor dies only once or twice a year, and it's more progress than he could ever dream of.

Evan has stopped falling, definitely, even though sometimes he feels dangerously close to the edge, but by now he knows how to take a step back and be safe and not having to live with the fear of an eventual impact.

Zoe, too, is learning how to stay safely away from the edge, and sometimes she and Evan talk about it, because they both need to be sure this isn't just a dream and they're not gonna slam into the ground with the rage of ten thousands suns.

It takes a long time for the fear of falling back into it to fall dormant, but eventually they make it work. It takes time, and persistence, and sometimes sheer spite to get through rough days, but eventually they all get through the day.

One night, as he's laying in bed, flushed against Evan, Connor says :

"I love you. I'm glad I exist."

And it's true.

Evan says :

"I love you. I see you, and I care."

It's also true.

(Evan is so glad it's true.)

**Author's Note:**

> Connor's last line is from the poem The Orange by Wendy Cope and it punched me in the face when I first read it.


End file.
